


Open

by orphan_account



Category: Happy Tree Friends
Genre: Angst, F/M, Probably won’t finish, This kinda sucks, flaky is crying and shaking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: i made this over a year ago, however, i’m not sure if i plan on finishing iti posted it on wattpad, so i guess why not post it here?? idk,,a lot of this is kinda sucky cause it’swelloldbut i will probably change it later but have this for now!!
Relationships: Flaky/Flippy (Happy Tree Friends)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i used this story to vent out my emotions a lot so sorry if it gets heavy

He always says I’m adorable. He compliments my kind personality. Even with such a hefty grip, his tender hands manage to take hold of my doll-like fingers delicately when we cross the road together. Even with his sage eyes piercing my slowly melting heart each time our gazes are locked on one another, I feel so inferior. Such a dashing young man happens to stand at 6’3 feet tall. Meanwhile, I’m nothing more than a shrub who seems to be very close to reaching the 5 foot height mark. He’s only 19 and he happens to be a successful war vet, outgoing and absolutely stunning. I’m the same age as him, and I’ve barely managed to fix my shyness to actually work on my social skills. I’m a clumsy introvert who hasn’t really gotten any chance to truly succeed. Everything about him is so impeccable. Everything about me, well.. it’s distasteful. 

Here in this reclusive town, all of us inhabitants have little nicknames that truly define us. We never really lived up to our real names. Most of us forgot our real names by now, these silly little nicknames take their place. For example, mine is Flaky. I have little white flakes of dandruff that are like snowflakes in a way. Snowflakes are small, delicate and serene, and so am I. I have a close best friend, and his nickname is Cuddles. We gave him that cause that was his childhood pet rabbit’s name. He loved that bunny rabbit so much, he’d take it everywhere he’d go. A simple walk to the park and his bunny would be trotting happily along with him on all fours like a dog. Another close friend of mine, Giggles, has a saccharine tune in her voice whenever she laughs. Some nicknames were given to close friends and acquaintances in a morbid way. It could be a small joke kind of nickname, but it was actually true and it did apply to them. One of the townspeople’s nicknames is Handy. He’s a handyman, and ever since he was young, he was surprisingly talented. An amazing pianist, a great drummer, and his dream of engineering truly helped him in the long run. Unfortunately, even with all of his talents and accomplishments, the poor guy’s had severe epilepsy for quite a while, and he lost his arms. No one really ever knew why but him. He continues to keep it a secret, but everyone has their rumors and theories. Some sick pair of twins that live in the town mocked and ridiculed him for his disabilities. He was considered “handicapped”. Thus, he had the nickname, Handy. After a while, even though everyone else thought the name was pretty harsh, people tried not to take the true meaning of the name into consideration. Meanwhile, that war veteran happens to be one of the closest friends of mine. We were childhood best friends, and our relationship has really grown. I really look at him as more than just a friend. Looking at him can really fluster me. He just really makes my insides flutter. It’s some emotion I can’t really explain. I guess you could call it love, if it truly happens to be that way. It’s just one-sided, I’m not very sure. He suffers from severe PTSD, which can provoke his terrible case of bipolar disorder. The war really did a number on him. That’s why he only participated in a year of the war after all of the mortifying things that happened. Even before the war, he always had this little voice inside his head that would slowly break him and bring him down until he was nothing. A lot of people called him Flippy because of that. He was a genuinely nice guy, but if there were any PTSD provoking factors in a room, or just anything that could stress him out, he’d become a completely different person. A relentless killer who will do anything to spill blood on his hands. This harrowing change can even be seen as his tranquil sage eyes slowly deteriorate and form into a tuscany yellow that could turn anyone into stone like Medusa herself in a matter of seconds. Funny thing about us is that we’re not truly human beings. Our physical traits may say otherwise, but we are abnormal. In this town, no one really survives. Most of us end up dead, but by the end of the day, I guess it’s some kind of hope or determination that resurrects us. It’s a dangerous town, even the children aren’t spared from death’s cruel wrath. We try not to think about it too much and keep on going with our merry day. But with such a close friend who can’t help but suffer through it all, it’s gotten gradually more difficult to forget about the pain. Some of these sad and cruel childhood names have somehow stuck with us. We forget the meaning, so we just call each other these names. Kind of as a term of endearment now. Even so, I can’t get these gruesome images out of my head. Knowing that I’m one of the few that understand Flippy’s severe condition makes it so much worse. Every little morsel and detail of the puzzle piece that makes this story, I can visualize it so well. I’m in deep thought, and I can feel shivers crawling up my spine once the thought crosses my mind. 

It was only yesterday. It’s when it all took place. Underneath a hollow, leaf shedding oak tree, I find myself with a book in my hands, passing the time. I giggle to myself for a moment. I realize that even if our town is called “Happy Tree Town”, it isn’t very happy. Nonetheless, we make the most out of it. My small, tender fingers trace along the fifty-sixth page, flipping to the next. I’ve only recently started this book, and it’s simply a masterpiece. It may seem like your average, cheesy fable, classic   
male saving a damsel in distress. It’s more than that simple base plot line. It’s detailed, rather gory, but that’s what adds on to the artistic factors of such a beautiful piece. Once my fingers trace the outline of the next page, an ear splitting shriek interrupts my serene reading. I proceed to let out a small squeak, jolting up at the surprise. In the corner of my eye, I can see some kind of red frosted with a bit of pink. I wasn’t sure what was occurring, so I get closer to the scene. When taking the scene in, I can feel a bit of vomit rising up in my throat. It burns so much, it’s engulfing my uvula. I’m trying hard not to regurgitate that small snack I had before I left the house. But this morbid scene that has been placed in front of my very eyes just cannot be forgotten. It was Flippy, yet at the same time, it wasn’t. It wasn’t truly him. A lot of people called this side of his “Fliqpy”. There he was, repeatedly mashing the skull of one of the town’s inhabitants in the ground’s soil. Blood could be seen, oozing out slowly. I could see chunks of his brain being broken down the more his head collided violently with the soil. This inhabitant’s nickname was Toothy. He was given that nickname for his childlike buck teeth that stood out compared to his other teeth. I can’t help but feel bad for him. Out of everyone, he’s the one that suffers the most. It’s why you can see him crying a lot, I believe. He tried pleading for mercy through choked gasps, but it had no effect. My eyes couldn’t believe what happened next. As Fliqpy reached into his pockets for a sharp carving knife, he proceeds to skin the remaining parts of Toothy’s forehead, throwing out little mushy parts of his decaying brain out of the way. As his eyes slowly rolled in the back of his head, a knife was driven right into his sclera. It was twisting and turning, a disturbing sight indeed. His pupils faded away as his eyeball was twitching for a few seconds before bursting out of his sockets. His sclera was still present, but instead of a normal, clear color, it was vermillion, his retinas no longer seen. Fliqpy used his bare fingers to dig into the bloody, remaining parts of Toothy’s eye and ripped it right out of his socket. He noticed the eyeball with the formerly light eyelid formed into a dark color filler alongside him, and he took his fist and pounded it into the ground. The vermillion ball that was once his sclera rolled around, and Fliqpy made Toothy watch with the remaining eyesight that he had as he dug his carving knife in the sclera, slowly chopping it into 2 separate halves. Toothy slightly twitched with a bit of life, trying to hold onto his last breaths. Before he could suffer any longer, Fliqpy thrusted his carving knife straight into his chest. He sawed through his chest, exposing his slowly beating heart and his ribcage. The cold, autumn air stung his exposed entrails, and his heart was forcefully yanked out of his body and squashed by the force of Fliqpy’s sharp fingernails. From there, Toothy’s decomposing body went completely limp. Fliqpy walked away from the bloody mess, leaving a few stray crows to masticate the remains of his rotting corpse. I stay close to the stray tree I was resting under out of absolute fear. As I clung on, I could feel the man’s sharp gaze piercing me. My breathing hitched, and that’s when I felt that I should make a break for it. As I shuffled away from him, I can hear his husky voice mutter, “You. You shouldn’t have been here.” I can hear those words replaying over and over and over. I couldn’t exactly decode what point he was trying to get across from that. Nonetheless, I had no time to figure it out. I went from speed walking to sprinting out of that park. I could see a public restroom and I made my way into it, hopefully praying that he wouldn’t find me there. I couldn’t be more wrong. He bursted through the door. I can already feel my life coming to its end. His laughs were rough and husky, and I was expecting myself to slowly suffer, like how he made everyone else suffer. Yet, he simply just stood there. I could see him reaching into his pockets for something. Before I could even notice much of anything, a pocket knife, still bloodied and frosted with gradually slowly drying blood was thrown in my direction. I cried out as I clutched my head, the blood rushing from both sides. I was starting to feel dizzier each moment, and I collapsed completely from there. 

He’ll even kill close friends like me. It’s not like he wants to. But he does. I still remember it all even after being shanked in the head. I wasn’t sure why my death was so painless compared to Toothy’s. But maybe it was just some kind of way to get me to not think about what I had witnessed, However, there was this overwhelming panic and fear swimming inside of me. Then again, I could just be reading too much into it, but it could be true. As much as I understand him, at the same time, I’m intimidated by him. My own friend who I’ve known for years who has suffered and it isn’t even his fault. I can’t even help him either. I lay in my wool knit sweater, stretching out my legs. I was too lazy to put on actual shorts. These might be a bit short, but I’ve been exhausted lately, so I just grab and go with things to slip on. For once, I woke up at a decent time. I’ve already brushed my teeth, so I make my way to the living room as I continue to rub my eyes. I was really hoping I prepared coffee from the other day to drink right now. Even after waking up a decent hour, I still wasn’t energized enough. I looked over my shoulder to notice a pearlescent patterned mug sitting on the counter, patiently waiting for me. I sigh to myself. No matter if I have so much or so little energy, I still can’t seem to appreciate who I am. I can’t see anything good in myself, in all honesty. I’m riddled with anxiety, I’m self conscious, and lately, all of these little insecurities have been building up into a full fledged depression. I hold back tears, wobbling a bit as I bound towards my coffee mug. My movements were interrupted by a knock on the door. I jolted up as I nearly reached my hand out for the coffee mug. Only one person would bother showing up on my doorstep at this time of day. I shuddered. After what happened last time, our encounter now will be nothing but incredibly awkward, and quite intimidating. What if he gets annoyed by my flustered behavior? What if he doesn’t like how I try to hide my insecurities? I’m just such an unlikeable person, someone like him would leave in a matter of seconds, I’m sure. Before I could panic, I can hear the knob slowly turning. It’s too late to turn back now. The door opens, and I squint my eyes through the sunlight outside to see a tall silhouette.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s right there. It’s him. I internally panic, in a cluster of words, I just don’t know what to say. It’s not the most serene thing, talking to someone after you saw them murder someone else in cold blood. Yet I feel terrible. As someone close to him, I should treat him like a true friend, not a monster. Plus, I have feelings for him. But I just don’t understand how those feelings work. I really like him, but he’s not always himself. That’s what scares me. I never know who’s really there, who’s really in control. I can’t let him fade away, I just love him too much. He’s just so admirable. My face was a scarlet mess as I fiddled around with a few flaky strands of my hair to distract myself from my nerves. After a few minutes of silence and me being flustered, his voice broke the silence. “Erm, so funny story,” he began. “I was walking by the park and I remembered what happened. I felt really bad and I could see Toothy’s corpse. It was really disgusting to look at. The blood was all rotten and it was nauseating. Suddenly, he woke up. And he was completely cleared of his blood and rotting stuff. I apologized profusely and it seemed like he remembered what happened after being resurrected, but he was completely cool with it, I guess. He just seemed so calm and normal and..” I guess he noticed how much my blush was starting to spread from ear to ear, and he changed the conversation topic to that. “Flaky, are you alright? You’ve just been a lot more reclusive than usual, much more easily flustered. Is it something I did? I’m really sorry. I’m trying to control it as much as I can. But there’s not much I can really do.” Without even thinking, I blurted out,  
“I’m completely fine! I promise! No need to worry!” Damn, there really wasn’t any hiding it, was there? Of course he had nothing to worry about, it wasn’t his fault. I just haven’t been feeling like myself. It isn’t him, it’s just because I’m not happy with who I truly am. Being around him kind of distracts me, but then I just get more stressed, getting more lost and lost in his eyes. Those beautiful eyes. I can see the crystal texture outline of his irises, and it’s so opulent and pretty. I come back to my senses after he vigorously shakes me for me to come back to reality.   
“You really don’t need to hide anything from me. I’m worried about you, about how you’ve been isolating yourself. I just wanna make sure everything is alright. Plus, we’re quite close as friends, yet we never have one on one time.” I hesitate for a moment, but I finally make up my mind. I may be unhappy, but maybe Flippy might be able to fix things. I gesture him over to sit on the couch as I grab my coffee mug.   
“Would you like to stay for a bit? I’ll make coffee if you’d like.” He beamed, replying,  
“Sure! It sure is great to see you again, by the way.” My cheeks reddened yet again. I never knew he saw me as such a great person. I really don’t feel like that’s who I really am. But coming from him, it really means a lot.  
“Thanks, you too,” I reply. I patiently wait for the coffee to brew, and my small grin fades away. There’s something wrong with me. Each time I plaster on some stupid smile, I realize how disgusting I truly am. I hate it. I hate all of this. I force myself to hold back the tears I would’ve sobbed right then and there on the spot and I rest my head on the dark wood of the dining room table in absolute agony. I slowly uncover the left sleeve of my wool sweater to reveal my porcelain skin, still tainted with faint red lines. Some of those lines are faint, but on closer inspection on some parts of my arm, I notice scabby, ugly parts of my arm. The scars haven’t really healed. I choke back the tears that keep on coming back as I forcefully drill my sharp fingernails into the scabby parts of my arm. It’s a good thing I don’t really cut my nails, because my fingers were stained with specs of blood as I was able to draw some blood from the middle of my scab. I couldn’t take it anymore. I deserved this, no matter how much it was going to hurt, I deserve every ounce of pain that I end up receiving. I completely yank the wilting skin off, a fresh line of blood slowly dripping. I quickly cover the arm with the wool sleeve again. Thank God this sweater was dark, so it’d camouflage the blood stains a lot more. My eyes stung with the tears that were longing to erupt from my sockets. I tried giggling to myself to retract them, but to no avail. With hitched, blubbering breaths, I force myself to quietly walk up the stairs to cry it all out. My legs were achy, and my body was in so much pain for some reason, but as sore as I was, I didn’t even care. That’s when I notice Flippy ogling me as I was about to continue my promenade up the staircase. “Are you alright?” He asked. I forced yet another delicate smile upon my face, reassuring him,  
“Oh, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom.” At this point, I’ve pulled the bathroom card several times, so I’m 99% sure he doesn’t really buy it anymore. Nonetheless, I attempt to use my small footsteps to quickly maneuver my way into the bathroom. Locking the door, I quietly let out a few sobs. In the corner of my teary, extremely cloudy eyes, I notice a razor blade with a bit of dried up blood on it. Even if I have a guest over, one little cut won’t hurt, right? After all, he wouldn’t care. No one would, I’m sure. I giggle at my idiocy, continuing to sob quite hard. In the midst of my crying, my legs wobble as I steady myself off of the ground, reaching for the blade. I use my thumb to fiddle with the blade part, peeling small bits of dead skin cells off. My laughter gets hoarse and raspy as I keep on choking on my tears. I sniffle, striking the blade on my arm. My sharp teeth collide with my tongue, stopping myself from making any noise or attempting to scream. As much as it hurt, I couldn’t stop there. My slow, gentle dragging across my arm wouldn’t suffice, so I picked up the pace by quite a lot, yanking it against my skin. My arms burnt with how warm my blood was, my skin could’ve been engulfed in flames. It hurts so much, and the crying just won’t stop. I collapse onto the floor, continuing to let my tears spill onto the ground. With hitched breaths, I continue to cough on my own sadness and grief. I find myself next to a toilet paper roll, and it was something that was important to hide all of the mistakes I’ve made. I hastily grabbed the roll, ripping off several pieces of toilet paper and letting them rest on my bleeding cut. The blood seeps through the delicate shield, and it doesn’t seem like it’s doing any good. I mutter to myself, “You’re not normal. You look terrible. Why are you even alive? You have no purpose.” Parts of skin on my arm were slowly peeling off as I got more aggressive with my cutting. There was no more holding back. Whatever happens happens, and I already know death will soon wait on my doorstep again. After another forceful drag, I can feel my senses and grip slipping away. I’ve done it, haven’t I? Before getting another second to think, I doze off a bit, but I can still hear Flippy’s voice, very faint, but he said something along the lines of,  
“Coffee’s ready!”


	3. Chapter 3

I find myself enveloped in the warming blanket of my floral print bedsheets. There was that fluorescent mug again, but it sat on the nightstand right beside me, coffee mixed with vanilla creamer with a few sugars filled to the brim. Sometimes I forget how cozy this bed is as I usually end up passing out at an ungodly hour on different surfaces of my house. I suddenly hear a voice travel from the other end of the room. “Ah, you’re awake.” So, he really does care that much? I rub my eyes, getting a closer look at him.  
“Flippy, you still stayed?” My body was still quite achy. I just wanted to collapse and sleep all over again. Before I could get back on my train of thought, he suddenly held me in his arms. His warm embrace made me forget about all of the things I did before winding up in my bed.   
“Of course I stayed,” He said. “You don’t understand how worried I was. You were up there an awfully long time, and I checked on you. There you were, completely knocked asleep. I tried tending to your needs, but I feel like you might be getting sick. You should really rest more, you know?” I giggled as he said that last bit. It’s just so cute, so kind and humorous how he worries so much about me. It makes me feel bad that he has to, but it’s kind of comical, knowing how much of his time he’s wasting on someone like me.   
“I’m sure it’s not that bad! I was probably just really tired. Energy crashes happen with me a lot, I guess,” I reply. He snickered, taking note of my rather delicate, smaller frame and playfully elbowed me.   
“Passing out in the bathroom floor isn’t just some energy crash, dummy!” I giggle alongside him. Our small laughs turn into hysterical screams. I’m not sure why, it was so funny, I couldn’t stop laughing. I could feel some tears coiling, resting on my eyelashes. Flippy then proceeds to lower his voice into a whisper as he speaks yet again. “But seriously, if something is wrong, you can always tell me, you know that, right?” I nodded. I wasn’t sure what else to think of or say, but it’s all that came to mind. Plus, it’s something we haven’t really done in a while. I murmured,   
“Movie.” He looks at me quizzically, cocking his head to the side.  
“What?”  
“Movie,”  
“I don’t really think that’ll help with your sickness, Fla-“ I repeated myself, attempting to do some kind of mock stern voice,   
“Movie.” It seems that Flippy couldn’t help but laugh really hard at this. In between laughs, he managed to say,  
“I can’t get over how hilarious it is when you get mad sometimes. It’s cute too, the way you puff your cheeks as well.” I nudge him gently,  
“Oh, be quiet!” We both ended up laughing really hard yet again. I stretch out my tiny arms, reaching for the remote. Once I finally acquired it after so much effort of trying to reach it, the TV turns on, gradually leading me to a selection of a variety of different movies and tv shows, all laid out on the screen. Scrolling through them, I mumble to myself, “None of these look interesting enough.” This was starting to get vexing, not being able to find anything that might make us both have a laugh. We never hang out, and when we do, it’s some awkward encounter, nothing more. There’s gotta be something that can bring us a bit closer. Some film that isn’t too sappy, or harrowing, or gloomy. That’s when Flippy tapped me on the shoulder, pointing to a certain film on the screen and said,  
“Hey, wanna watch that one? It’s a classic. I think you’ll really like it.” On closer inspection, the film’s cover doesn’t look half bad. I’m usually a cynic when it comes to discovering new films, but maybe this could work. Plus, if it makes Flippy smile, it might make me smile. We like a lot of the same stuff. He makes sure to put on the trailer at first, probably to double check if it’s something I’m actually interested in watching. In the opening scene, there’s 2 adorable little kids. They both remind me of when Flippy and I were kids. They look just like us. They have the same mannerisms as we did as kids. The girl’s a timid mess, and the boy is a beautiful extrovert. It’s like this movie was made just for us. Maybe that’s why Flippy picked it? Later in the trailer, the girl’s shown as a geeky grownup who seems like a huge loser. She’s trying to find her way around life. It’s kinda comical, cause she’s actually prettier than she thinks she is, weirdly enough. She looks up to a bunch of models but she’s kind of like them herself. As if Flippy was reading my mind, he tapped me on the shoulder, gesturing for me to pay attention as he said, “You remind me a lot of the main character in the movie. She’s really reclusive, but she doesn’t realize that she’s just as cool as some of the loudmouth, obnoxious girls. Actually, she’s way better.” My face flushed at that comment. I’m never sure how to take some of his comments. Obviously he wouldn’t be flirting with me, compared to him, I’m.. well, me. I guess it’s just me. Considering that he’s quite outgoing like a lot of people in the town, as a girl who keeps to herself, it’s probably normal that I’d perceive an extrovert’s comments and traits as a bit quirky. I was too distracted on how humorous and real the trailer felt. It felt like someone made some kind of documentary about me. I don’t really know why they’d want to, but it just felt so real. I could sense Flippy ogling me, noticing the pathetic, giddy look on my face. He was smirking, forcing himself not to snicker a whole bunch. “Weren’t you all tired and faint before? Now look who’s happy and energetic,”   
“Oh, be quiet! It’s just a funny trailer, that’s all!” I used all of my strength to elbow his ribs as a retort to his snide ass comment. It was kinda funny though. I should point out that I’m pretty weak, so obviously, this didn’t have much of an effect on him. He shrugged, and he asked,  
“Well, you wanna watch it?” I nod back. I had kind of low expectations for the movie, but the trailer obviously proved my hypothesis wrong. I was kind of nervous, yet somehow elated to see what this movie had in store since I never really watched a lot of TV and media anymore. His fingers rub against the down arrow button of the remote, then back up to the circular “SELECT” button in the dead center to confirm the $3.99 rental.


	4. Chapter 4

There it was, the bittersweet start of the film. I barely knew anything about it, and already, I was starting to feel a single tear roll down my cheek. It was kind of pathetic. Yet, something about these 2 small children just congregating, contemplating their future; it just really struck me. I’d assume Flippy probably noticed this, and he put a hand out to my shoulder; rubbing it gently. Making his voice delicate and tranquil, he cooed as he spoke,  
“You seem pretty attached to the movie so far. It’s only the beginning, but I’m glad you enjoy it.” I looked back at him, misty clouds dancing on my lashes, ringing out my amaranth irises.   
“It just brings back memories, that’s all,” I respond back.   
“Hey, don’t feel bad. I kinda had the same reaction when I first watched this movie,” So I guess I wasn’t so pathetic and sensitive. Maybe it was a rational reaction, growing attached to a fictional child who adds up to be yourself in your eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror, and that reflection of mine looks back at me and mumbles,  
“Swings can go sky high just like him. I’m nothing more than a bumpy slide, rusty, worn out and nearly broken.” Those words, those metaphorical, figurative words, those powerful words that pierced me right in the heart came from my mini me. This was going to be a great movie, huh? It’s like it really did know me. It knew who I was. It knew about how low and gloomy I feel. I was ready for an unhealthy amount of perspective, self-awareness and uncontainable emotions to pour out excessively. 

This mini-me of mine apparently happened to be suicidal and severely depressed from a young age. She forced herself to keep her emotions hidden and out of sight, trying to look like a timid, yet optimistic girl on the surface. She enjoyed a lot of sports and video games, but since her euphoria was dripping away, so was her desire to actually do any of those things. She was so self conscious, she pretty much loathed herself and having to look in the mirror. I didn’t think the film would go this far, but as if it had read my mind, it went even farther. All of her cuts were roughly planted on both of her pale arms. Her crush never even knew about it, and he was her best friend. The movie that was at first simple, saccharine and nostalgic slowly took a morbid turn. How heinous can someone be to make me suffer this way? My mini me proceeds to ask that exact same question I’ve asked myself just now before she starts to slit her wrists in the bathroom of her crush. It’s kind of funny, they were going to hang out and she could’ve confessed if she wanted to. She chose ending her life over her own supporters, friends, family and beloved one. It was pathetic, it was pitiful, it was absolutely heart wrenching. I couldn’t bear to watch another damn millisecond of this, for it was a harsh reminder for me to join her. I let out a deafening wail, clutching onto the floral covers, my breathing hitched ever so slightly. I completely bursted out bawling. What the hell was wrong with me? I’m acting like such a child. I noticed Flippy jolt up at my sudden reaction, rushing to shake me vigorously, constantly asking if I was ok. Why am I panicking? It’s just a movie. It isn’t real. This isn’t real, and it’s not happening. It’s fiction. 

I’m living in my own lie.

I embrace myself in a fiction utopia, but my agony and suffering is real.

Me failing to believe it isn’t fucking working anymore.

I yelled back, “I can’t take this anymore!” before completely scurrying off. I don’t know where my feet were going to take me, and I had no idea where I’d carry myself and let myself drift. I didn’t even care if anyone knew anymore. 

It’s better if they know little to nothing so they can give me space.

Then I’ll be free, and I’ll see that reflection of mine on the other side.


	5. Chapter 5

I find myself in the local park, and the usually serene, autumn breeze didn’t soothe me this time. Nothing felt right. Why am I still alive? I shouldn’t even be here. Thinking about it more made me cry even harder. Why would I just run off like that? I’m nothing more than a sick individual who shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t be breathing. If anything, I’d better off dead, and everyone else would be better without me. After having another couple of cries, I simply just collapse under that same shedding oak tree that took place during those traumatic times. What was wrong with me? I kept on crying and I couldn’t stop. I’m so pathetic. After some more sniffling, I can hear footsteps coming my direction. I prayed to God it wasn’t who I thought it was. I’m terrified that I worried him sick. If he happened to be.. well, not himself, I hope I suffered the most painful death. Even if I’d come back, I’d come back with common sense. The best part would be that I’d come back and try to leave for good. A murder is temporary in this town, but a suicide is something you can’t take back. It has to be done, and I can’t look back. Before I could contemplate my plan any further, those footsteps get closer. I can feel someone’s sharp, yet delicate gaze lay on me. I’m too terrified to look up, but I force myself to. My breaths start to quiver, and I realize that it isn’t who I thought it was. The rather pitchy voice asks, “Flaky, you look really queasy about something. Is everything alright?” It was Cuddles. He happened to be another one of my close friends. I try to force a smile onto my face, trying to block out the puffiness of my eyes and respond with,   
“Haha, couldn’t be better! Just needed some time alone.” Obviously, Cuddles didn’t seem to be buying it. Whilst Flippy was a close friend of mine, I didn’t usually tell him a lot of secrets. I dreaded judgement from him, for I’ve always had some kind of hidden affection for him. Cuddles happened to know a lot of secrets, however. For instance, my feelings about Flippy. I forced myself to finally look up to find him. Sometimes, I forget that despite Cuddles being such a sweet, funny and goofy kind of person, he’s seemingly threatening when somber, which is quite rare. Nonetheless, I attempt to pay attention, and with this overwhelming tension, it’s pretty difficult. His gaze digs deep into me, his eyes filled with worry. He reaches his arm out to me, steadying me up on my feet. I guess he noticed, huh? He then proceeds to say something that sends a shiver down my spine. “There’s no need to lie anymore. I know what’s really going on with you.” I tried to pass it off and I stuttered,  
“W-what?! Ha, what do you mean? Everything’s fine!” As if to prove my point, I force a disgusting looking grin onto my face. Obviously, he wasn’t buying it. This was Cuddles. I don’t talk to him as much as I used to. He has his own life, a girlfriend and friends that he spends a lot more time with. Meanwhile I’m just cooped up in my home. but we know a lot about each other. I’ve grown distant from pretty much everyone, and I usually never leave the house. Usually, he’s perky, hilarious and optimistic. It’s very rare to see him this upset.   
“I don’t want you to lie anymore. I don’t want you to hide anything anymore. Flaky, I can tell that you’re depressed. I mean, we’ve known each other since childhood. I don’t know what it was, but there was something that took some kind of left turn, and it practically shattered you somehow. Plus.. I’ve been really scared. I’ve been so worried. I’m concerned for your safety, you know,” I sniffled. He knew everything, but how? How could he find out so easily? Even if he was one of my best friends, how can someone even that close find out something like this? I’m terrified I’ll just worry him even more, and I bawl even harder than I did before. I say through shaky breaths,  
“I’m sorry! I’m such a screw up! I can’t do anything! I hate this. I hate everything!” Cuddles takes me in his arms, calmly embracing me. He murmurs,  
“I’ve noticed this change with you for a while. I wasn’t sure what to say, and I wasn’t sure what to do. It kept me up at night knowing you might not make it out alive like this. But.. I know there’s something that maybe, just maybe I could do to help.” I looked pathetic, sobbing this way, but I composed myself, and with my steadier breaths, I can now calmly reply,  
“I’m sorry. You didn’t need to see me this way. It’s really nothing though. I’ll be fine.” I can’t let anyone worry anymore. I want all of my friends to be happy. I don’t want them to end up a distraught trainwreck like me. My smile is less fake than it normally is. It seems so much more natural, but it’s not out of happiness. It’s bittersweet. It’s glum. I’m the embodiment of my reflection when I smile like this. Putting on any kind of facade doesn’t seem to work, but neither does crying it out. I still feel terrible either way. Even if I go down never being able to apologize and talk to all of my loved ones, it’s ok. I scurry off and out of the park, running and trying to find my way back home.   
“Wait!” Cuddles called back out to me. I immediately turn around and listen. “Don’t lie to me when you say you’re going to try to fix it yourself, ok? I want things to work this time. I want you to get better,” I smile another glum smile at his comment. He’s concerned, and he’s sweet. He’s like an older brother in a way. I can really trust him with all of my secrets.

But the morose part was that I couldn’t trust him with this one.

If it meant subtracting myself from this hellish equation of life, I’ll have to lie more. 

Not too fake, not too obvious.

Just enough to get closer to the grave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter’s :(

This was a rather lengthy promenade. Usually it never takes so long to get home. I feel that it’s my lack of energy that’s probably bringing me down. I was just feeling so exhausted. I honestly didn’t even care anymore. I realize I’m still wearing the same shorts from earlier this morning, but oh well. Even if it was now sunset and I could be letting the shower engulf me with its warm water, hygiene was less important than actually trying to force myself to stop fucking crying. After so much walking, finally, I’m at my doorstep. I look back at the colorful mix of azure and coral in the cloudy skies, trying to visualize some kind of symbol or sign of my reflection. Alas, to no avail. I’m almost certainly sure Flippy was probably being worrisome as usual, but he most likely went home. Usually when things like these happen, the door’s left open for me to get back inside. That was the case yet again. However, I could feel some kind of odd prescience as soon as I stepped foot into my vicinity. Something felt so out of place, so entirely wrong. First of all, the air stings of whiskey washed down with cough drops. Everything isn’t the calming dim scenery it usually is. It’s completely dark, and it’s absolutely harrowing. I slip off my size 5 flip flops, letting my toes crack a bit from the pressure of my feet pressed against the shoe. When putting my left foot down as I was beginning to walk up to my room, I felt a sharp pain drive though the soles of my feet. That pain turns into an overwhelming warmth, and then I realize; there were little shards of glass all over the floor. I tried to get the sharp shard that was pierced into my foot out. I ended up drawing some more blood, but that didn’t matter. I gulped down my fear and kept on walking. 

The creakiness of the staircase was growing aggravating, yet unsettling with each step I took. In the corridor of absolute darkness, I could see a slight sliver of light that would lead me out of this ebony hell. As I was about to reach for the door, I heard a raspy, low voice say, “Welcome home.” The voice laughed, and I could feel its repulsive breath reeking of alcohol on the sides of my cheek. I step back a bit, trying to maintain my ground. I felt like I knew who this voice belonged to. Yet at the same time, I was absolutely muddled. Suddenly, something lunged at me from a distance, aggressively pouncing. I try to wriggle out for freedom, but to no avail. I look up to see a flash of lime strands of hair mainly blocked out by a glowing pair of piercing tuscany eyes glaring at me. It was him. What had happened? Had he tried to look for me? Had he gotten stressed trying? Was I the cause of his stress? His hoarse voice crackles a bit as he speaks, “Haha, all of this, it’s just so comical. He got so stressed over someone like you? You’re just a fucking obstacle. He’s trying to get through his own life, he doesn’t need some pests like you, so I might as well exterminate you one way or another. Trust me, neither of you will remember being so stressed, so anxious, all of that bullshit. Because when I’m through with you, it’ll all stop. You bullshitting whenever you claim you’re fine, trust me, I see right through you,” He cackles, and keeps on speaking. “Go ahead and cry and scream. Struggle all you want, it won’t help you. No one will hear you scream, because they’ll lose interest. Every single one of them. They won’t care.” I try to break out of his strong grasp again, and I fail. I can feel a razor sharp blade pressed against my neck. He whispers something in my ear, making me shiver with so much anxiety. “Just let go of everything. Then he won’t know. They won’t know. Everything might be slightly less annoying. Haha, then again, it’ll be a slight disappointment when you finally make your departure. You’re so innocent, aren’t you? You think you’ll get off easy like the rest, huh? You wanted this to happen, you wanted him to be your sweet redemption. If only you were actually stable enough for his grasp. Ha, it’s just so pathetic. So until you break down and give in to the voices that tell you to do this town a favor, I’m gonna make you mine.” His words trailed off the tip of his tongue. As he licked his lips, his hands slipped under my sweater, and I could feel his hefty grip on my small, flat but perky bosoms. It didn’t feel right. It felt gross. Someone that I had feelings for wasn’t in control. It was a bloodthirsty, relentless killer. I don’t understand. Why did he spare me? Did Flippy have a little bit of control? If he did, why isn’t he stopping this? Why won’t this all end? I shiver as Fliqpy nips at my neck, and all I can do is let out small, defenseless squeaks as he toys with me mercilessly. His hands slowly make their way down my petite body, and once he makes contact with where my pelvis ended, my squeaks got even breathier. I could feel the cold, misty tears build up in my eyes. I softly sob, still squeaking. “I could’ve killed you. Right here, right now. But it wouldn’t be any fun for me. Even the most gruesome death wouldn’t put you through enough suffering. But slowly drifting away from that one person you so dearly love, I’ll ruin it for you. I’ll enjoy watching you try to squirm. Heh, at least your proportions are quite adorable compared to a lot of virgins. It mesmerizes me how much I could ram into it and rip it apart it for hours,” He said. These words of his nauseate me, but I still can’t seem to wriggle free from his hefty grasp. I gripped my eyes shut, absolutely terrified of whatever was going to happen next. I yelped, feeling Fliqpy’s bulky fingers travel and maneuver inside of my entrance, the soft tips of his fingernails drilling in far enough to violate my uterus. I cringe at the feeling of it all. Why is he doing this to me? Why couldn’t he just end me? Why did this side of him suddenly assert this newfound dominance? It’s harrowing, and he’s heinous. Words can’t describe how much I loathe it. If he wants me gone so much, what good will this do? Does he really want to induce this kind of trauma on me? Will anybody notice? Will Flippy notice, yet alone care? He yanks his fingers right out, leaving me a panting, sweaty and dripping mess. I try to crawl free, praying to God he didn’t pay attention. Unfortunately, he caught me in time, and he swiftly made his way towards me, pinning me to the ground. I blinked away the tears that kept on slowly coiling from my eye sockets. My misty eyes can’t see it, but I can still use my ears to my advantage. I end up hearing some kind of zipping sound, and before I could clear my eyes and see what it was, a sharp and warm excruciating pain pierce my feeble entrance. I scream out, hoping someone, anyone can hear my pleads of mercy,  
“Help me! Someone! Please!” The pain inside me only throbbed harder when I screamed. I could feel Fliqpy’s nails scratching against my veins, and my entire body felt like it would collapse. I finally realize as I look down at my vagina; my virginity. My innocence, what I was hoping to save for when Flippy was there. I didn’t want it forcefully taken from me. My once virgin blood is frosted on his penis as he kept on thrusting inside me. I squirmed as I hear his bitter voice coo,  
“No one’s coming. Stop thinking someone will save you. He won’t come back out as long as all of you people keep on breathing our air. Stop trying to cower away. Stop thinking I’m just going to end your life then and there. We’re doing this my fucking way, and I’m not going to let you hide and run. You’re under my grasp, my control.” He bent down to my neck, his warmth still inside me, and he ferociously nipped at it. The nipping turned into him gradually pulling off minuscule strands of my skin. A bit of blood dripped down my neck Suddenly, that razor sharp blade of his. Those memories from that one day at the park flood back. “Miss this?” He asks. He proceeds to stab it right through my chest. I can’t even scream, it only comes out as a raspy, throaty whisper. The tears can drip far enough to sting that wound of my chest. I feel absolutely sick to my stomach, slowly bleeding out, continuing to sob. I tried to let myself up, but I felt too faint to do so. I couldn’t seem to gain consciousness. All I could do was writhe in pain and slowly doze off. I can feel it in every part of my body, warmth of the bloody puddle beneath me and the seed shot inside of me. Fliqpy yanks his genitalia right out of me, and I quiver once he forcefully takes it out. I’m still a sobbing mess. Why would he do this? Why would he leave me to painfully bleed out and slowly rot into a puddle of despair? “Don’t ever run off again,” He seethed. “Since you don’t leave the house, we can spend the day together, screwing each other until it murders you.” He chuckled as he said such crude words. I felt so sick. I could feel a bit of vomit rising up, stinging the insides of my throat. Right as I was going to say something, all of my puke that was slowly dissolving and imploding finally exploded completely and spilled out of my mouth. I coughed, my eyes vigorously twitching with each drop of vomit pouring out of me. I was gradually drifting away yet again. All of this vomiting, all of this pain still throbbing inside of me, it was sedating me, slowly but surely. Racing thoughts kept on crossing my mind, and I took it all in. Every little word he said. My thoughts, they just kept getting louder and louder. Just do it. Listen to him. Everyone around you, the atmosphere, it’ll all be better. You won’t have to suffer anymore either. You’ll finally be free, no longer a burden. I saw a flash of his tuscany eyes piercing my heart slowly forming back into the mediocre sage before I faded away from reality. 

The last thing I heard before melting away was a pained screech.


	7. Chapter 7

fix this stuff later (spoiler alert idk if i ever fixed it.)

I find myself lying on the cold, hard ground of the living room. The wood really did a number on the nape of my neck. It was probably severely bruised from laying down there. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I proceed to reach through the pocket crevices, trying to feel the slight dents and cracks to detect my phone. I felt a small dent, and I discover my phone, still vibrating. I turn it on and come to find a barrage of text messages. All of them are from Flippy. I feel conflicted, confused. Why would he be messaging me so much so early? Then, I realize as I scroll through the messages. 

Flaky? Are you there?

You’re probably not awake, but I really need to say something 

I’m so sorry about last night

I guess I got really stressed and he came out

I didn’t even realize I took advantage of you like that

I understand if you can’t forgive me, it was a disgusting act

I shouldn’t be here.  
I’m sorry

Looking at these messages, I can feel the disgusting tears streaming down my childlike cheeks yet again. I shuffle a bit in place, trying to break free from the sticky, glue like yet dried up blood on the floor. I let my palms travel free around my chest, trying to discover the wound and if it was still there. It seems that it’s healed. So he did realize what he did? No one deserves to feel this way. The one person that I had feelings for was so emotionally distraught. He didn’t know what to do, and I just selfishly perceived him as a monster when he wasn’t in his right state. I hear a soft knock on the door, and I lost my train of thought. I didn’t look very presentable, but I couldn’t care less. To try to look not too repulsive and unappealing, I put my hair in two poofy, dandruff-flaked space buns. I dust off my clothing and I make my way to the door. In the sun filled doorway, I couldn’t believe what I saw. He turned up after all of that happened? I was so disgusted, and I just wasn’t sure why. I sneered, “What do you want?” Flippy defensively put his hands up, cautiously responding,   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just checking to see if you were ok, that’s all.” My cheeks get puffy and flush red as I timidly looked away, my glare still locked on him.   
“Why do you care? You’re the one who did that in the first fucking place,” What was wrong with me? I was so rude. Why was I acting like this? I was simply just spewing off at the mouth, I didn’t even know what I was saying at that point. Flippy’s face scrunched up, obviously looking hurt by my terrible attitude. I felt awful. This isn’t how you’re supposed to treat someone you care about; someone you love.   
“I understand,” He said. “That’s something you just can’t shake off. I shouldn’t feel hurt. Because I hurt you. Even if it was my subconscious, physically, it was still me.” It was all my fault, he was so broken and I wasn’t sure what to do. I was in a spiral of sadness, and I just blurted out,  
“Get the fuck away from me! You’re a monster. All of what you’re saying is stupid nonsense that anyone without any common sense would already know about someone like you.”

What have I done? What made me think that it was ok to do that? Flippy just stood there for a moment, nodded and gave me a patient, glum smile. His sage eyes that were once filled with life now look withered from all of the terrible things I’ve said. As he walked off, I gently shut the door. I don’t know why I was feeling this way, and I screeched. I don’t care if it was so loud that everyone in the town could hear, I screeched as much as I could. Out of anger? Out of fear? Perhaps sorrow or agony? I don’t know or care anymore. Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I practically sprinted up the stairs. I needed to cower somewhere to think about what ali just did, cry a bunch and then forget it altogether. I found a conveniently placed pair of tweezers. “I deserve this,” I mutter to myself, tears still trickling down my cheeks. I drive it into the scabbed up wound that I was determined to open up yet again. The dryness of the dead skin slowly peeled off as I delicately dragged the tweezers across my skin, a fresh line of blood gushing out. I was an awful person who deserved absolutely no mercy. I hope death’s cruel wrath would teach me for good. That’s when I pointed the sharp edged tweezers at my Adam’s apple, my fingers trembling. It may seem a bit extreme, but I was ready to drive this thing straight through my vocal chords if I had to. I was abruptly interrupted by the loud knocking on the door. God, how many people want to see me today, and what do they want? I wiped away the tears, coiling in my eyes. I sucked a breath in, casually rolling up my sleeves. I can’t hide away anymore. It’s time to confront whoever’s there, apologize profusely if it’s anyone that I’ve wronged, have a good cry afterwards, and do the final thing I must do before I..  
“Hello? Flaky? You there?” I hear a girl’s rather peppy, saccharine voice with a slight drawl shout out from the other side of the door. I hope random inhabitants of this town weren’t concerned about me, hence the knocking on the door. However, I’m sick of cowering and crying, trying to constantly shy away from contact. I sucked in another breath, attempting to march with confidence, but still failing nonetheless. My childlike fingers brush against the brass knob, slowly turning it to reveal someone I couldn’t have ever expected to show up at my doorstep.


	8. Chapter 8

Giggles? Out of all people? I must be dreaming, because I find it so out of place and rather odd to the point where it’s unsettling. This is because it’s just so difficult to understand why someone who has Giggles’ beauty and amazing personality would ever want anything to do with some lonely, crybaby loser like me. Yet, here we are. Avoiding eye contact was clearly not working, so I gradually forced myself to look up at her. Here I am, looking at one of the most popular, beautiful girls in this town. She’s a decent height too. If I recall correctly, she’s around 5’5, meanwhile I’m still the height of a 6th grader. Every proportion of her body is practically impeccable, it’s what everyone strives for. Meanwhile, I’m just slumped and basically always a mess. It really hurts that I can’t be that charming. It gives me terrible night terrors cause my mind always wants to wander to places I really don’t want it to. I came back to reality and remembered she was just right there in front of my doorstep. I should really cease the dumb daydreams, they’re never going to be real, no matter how hard I pray or wish for things to be slightly less chaotic. In a way, Giggles snaps me out of it by gently nudging me. “Flaky, can you hear me? Are you alright?” Jesus Christ, I’m an actual fucking idiot. I should really be more wary.  
“Ah? Oh, I’m alright!”  
“Well, I just came to tell you there’s a gathering party this weekend if you’d like to come,” She flashed yet another warm, bright smile. Meanwhile, My heart was pulsating as I stood in utter disbelief. Me? Within a crowd of popular, held high in honor, local young adults and teens? I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Did they really think of me as an acquaintance, let alone a friend? It was a slight euphoric feeling, just a little spring of warmth to brighten up my day, possibly. I smiled back, and responded   
“Thank you, have a nice day!” She waved back at me, nodding and giddily trotted off. It was rare to really feel some kind of small slither of hope like this. I wish it’d come more often, and I glumly smile, thinking about it.   
Then harrowing clumps of thoughts interrupt my serene mood.  
What if he’s there? He hates me, doesn’t he? I treat his condition like it’s absolutely nothing. I act like he’s just some kind of psycho that wants to hurt me when all in all, he’s trying to get better.   
I know I’ll embarrass myself. I don’t know how things got this way.  
I just want to be a kid again.  
A single tear trickles down my cheek once I reminisce on the movie I watched not too long ago. That girl, my reflection.  
Reflection.

“What’s wrong? You look shaken.”  
“Please answer me, I’m scared.”  
“Guys, do something. I’m scared. I’m scared. I don’t like this.”  
“Just don’t think about what happened to me, after all; our future’s still ahead! Each blood stain is just another step closer to…”

A wave of nausea suddenly washes over me. I have no idea what just happened, but a seemingly traumatic memory just crossed my mind. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around what it was, for it was just a blip of misery. Yet that blip felt like it lasted a lifetime. I hurriedly sprint to the bathroom, frantically looking for somewhere to throw up. I can feel the puke slowly rising up from my stomach, burning my throat. I wanted to get it all out. It was causing me such an immense amount of pain. But nothing was coming out. This dizzy cycle just kept on going, the pain rising almost up to my uvula. Puke.   
Puke.   
Throw up.  
Just sit down.  
Shut up.  
Shut everything up.  
Then everything ceases. Everything that I just gripped onto tightly feels so loose now, and I still somehow managed to gain consciousness. I sucked in a hitched breath, making my way to my room. At this point, I just want to completely sink into the cascade that is my bed and never wake up. I tucked in my knees, silently choking back my sorrows and tears as I trembled in fetal position. If I just close my eyes, just let go,

everything will be ok.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and i never finished my sentence  
> and i do not know if i ever will

“Help me! Oh God, help!”  
“Tell someone, it hurts! It hurts!”  
Screams and wails,   
they fill the room.  
Why?  
We were being curious children,   
fooling around,  
being silly,  
what is this?  
How did this happen?  
I tried to help.  
No one was there.  
Nobody could hear my call,  
my screams.

They still can’t hear me.  
I simply smile these sorrowful troubles away.   
He smiles back,  
“It’s ok,  
It might be like this for a while, but I promise,  
you don’t gotta worry!  
At least we..”  
There he went again.  
And again.   
And again.  
And again.  
The merciless, unkind grip of whatever  
curse took him,  
dragged him by his hoodie,  
and gnawed at him,  
with busy fingernails,   
skinning every little crevice,  
dismembering him limb by limb.  
They took her too.  
They took her to the point where she might as well be blind.  
Her.  
Her.  
Her.  
Everything must be impeccable  
or she will go in a frenzy.  
Him.  
Him.  
Him.  
They did him wrong.  
He was seemingly calm,  
a quiet kid,  
overtime  
it all shattered.  
Her.  
Her.  
Her.  
A morbid future  
full of agony  
despair is in store for her,  
and there’s no way out of it.  
Misfortunes here,   
misfortunes there,  
but what if a blade was purposefully pulled on oneself?  
Cease.  
Cease.  
Cease.  
Perish.  
Perish.  
Deteriorate.   
Die.

Flashes of gory images of these young children flash in my head, and my gradually growing, pounding migraine worsens. I jolted up, my hand delicately placed on my chest as I gave myself a few minutes to catch myself. Disgusting, wet tears kept on cascading down my cheeks. What was it all about?  
What is it with these night terrors…?  
Because all in all, I just couldn’t stand it. I was still quite exhausted and I decided to check the time. I’ve practically threw away then


End file.
